


Little Harley Stewart

by ianlevitt



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Ambiguity, Deception, Domestication, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Multi, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianlevitt/pseuds/ianlevitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The latest client of Pope & Associates isn't part of the norm, to put it simply. This is the first time Jake and Fitz are directly involved in Liv's personal life and a case at the same time. And, it is also the first time Pope & Associates has ever been employed by a baby. [Olake? Olitz? The endgame isn't decided and probably won't be until the very end. Just come along for the ride!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Newest

**Author's Note:**

> This starts off as an Olake fic, but Fitz will definitely make an appearance (duh Olitz will happen), and I haven't yet decided the endgame. It's partially scandalous, part domestic. The theme song for Olake in the first few chapters is "All That Matters", by Justin Bieber. Find the lyrics in the note after the story! (: I am not Shonda Rhimes, but I love messing with the Scandal characters just as much, maybe more.

"Hello?"

"Jake Ballard." It isn't a question.

"Yes," he answers, straightening up although the person on the other line cannot see him. "Who is this?"

The man chuckles heartily. It's almost worrisome. "That isn't important. Olivia's latest client is...interesting. I know where they are. I figure she's having trouble finding them. You can pick them up at the address I'm about to tell you, along with files related to their case. Read and analyze the documents before giving them to Olivia. If you can agree to that, I will have no hesitance in giving you their whereabouts."

"Okay."

* * *

Two hours, for  _two hours_ , they've driven thus far; nonetheless, Abby has no idea where they are going, despite her blatant questioning and pleading.

He won't budge, no matter how much she begs. So she's decided to go along for the ride, to assure that he isn't doing anything shady in Olivia's honor. She feels the stubbornness radiate off of him, and regardless finds the audacity to utter, "This is very rude. You not telling me where we're going."

Jake is swift to rebuttal. "What's rude is you hopping into my car when I left Olivia's apartment, claiming to be present on her behalf - which isn't true, if you didn't know."

Abby groans in frustration. "Smartass."

Another twenty minutes pass, Jake's vast playlist - including Aaliyah, Notorious B.I.G., and Jay-Z - vainly coughing life into the driver and passenger. Then, he pulls over near a brick house. He parks on the sidewalk, mentioning not a word to Abby as he removes himself from the driver's seat and wastes no time barging in through the front door. All the same, she follows.

An infant's whine erupts in her ears straightaway. "What the hell, Jake?" She bursts into the bare home, witnessing what most would consider kidnapping. Jake is carrying a tiny bundle, rocking it in an effort to keep the child within at peace. Suitcases, along with a crib and various loose papers, are spread throughout the empty living room. She watches Jake place the baby in their stroller prior to querying, "What is this? Who's the kid?"

"Someone called me with this address, said everything related to Olivia's latest client was located here. Looks like they were right." He buckles the child in and shoots her a look. "While you're ahead, I'd recommend not asking any additional questions you may not want to know the exact answers to."

Abby doesn't reply; she just frowns and narrows her eyes. "Do we need to take all of this to the office?"

"Yes. Do me a favor and hand me those papers on the coffee table, will you? I have a feeling they'll be crucial to whatever requires solving."

* * *

Even from the very beginning, Pope & Associates never proceeded with a case or issue until they obtained files, history, and other details pertaining directly to their client. Not once before had it been a problem - customers were usually open to sharing significant information and being checked should they desire for their dilemmas to be resolved in a timely fashion. Ambassadors, CEOs, regular everyday people: Olivia and her team were professionals at finding dirt on them all prior to becoming involved. And why wouldn't they, what with Huck and Harrison always at the ready, prepared to utilize certain skills if deemed necessary?

So this counts as the first time, the absolute first time in the record books when nothing links back to the client. "Are you sure, Huck?" Liv maintains a sigh. A clean slate usually meant shady business, and she's experienced enough so far, in the past two years especially. She won't dare permit her gladiators to waltz into this thing blindly. Yet, curiosity prods the cat.

Nothing...

_Nothing..._

"Yeah. Searched all over. No traceable personal bank account, just a trust fund. Barely anything on his father, but his mother recently died. A friend set her condolences in an e-mail, which hasn't been accessed since two months and four days ago. Other than that, we've got-."

"Nothing," she finished.

_Nothing..._

A beat.

Harrison cuts in to break the silence. "Could he be one of your guys, Huck?" Quickly rephrasing himself as to not seem accusatory, he clarifies, "Not  _your_  guy...someone like you? Maybe, any chance?"

Huck's eyes are trained on the computer screen; however, Harrison swears that if he glances his way, those dark, lifeless orbs will gladly set him ablaze. "If you're talking about B-613, then no. No, he's not. I'd remember.

"There's a birthdate here. It can't be right, late 2011."

"He's right," Quinn pipes up. The others stare at her with expressions as obvious as her statement. "What? It's true. Right? Two year olds don't have crises."

Liv is thrown glimpses for conformation. She merely nods. "All right. Then we move on to the next case. Like I said before, things will be easygoing around here for the next few weeks...months. We have to get back in the groove and I honestly appreciate your dedication."

Without warning, Quinn and Huck simultaneously rise from their respective seats. Harrison simply moves his pupils between Olivia and whatever - or whomever - has captured the trio's attention. Olivia exhales slowly, the air steadily rising in her throat. She begins at their feet. Dress shoes. Now she's worried. Up. Khakis. Less threatening, still suspicious.

And she finally has the courage to gaze at the man's face, affection and comfort enveloping her in a warm embrace. "Jake," Olivia murmurs, surprise dimly lacing her words. Naturally, the gladiators calm themselves after observing her reaction, relaxing as much as she wills herself to. Just noticeably, Liv's features tighten. He isn't supposed to be here, at her workplace. The rule remains the same, regardless of who it is being applied to.

"What do you want?" He's good at hiding his flinches. Jake allows his face to fall slightly, a platonic beam lingering. "I have something for you. A client, who wishes to see you. I presume he'll be comforted to be in your presence when he comes to."

Olivia's brow arches, interest piqued. She trusts Jake Ballard. He hasn't put her in harm's way in the past, and she suspects he isn't going to start now.

"You have our client?" Harrison snaps, the bemusement evident in his tone. "Don't just stand there. Bring him in."

Jake casts questioning looks at them all. He isn't upset - that much everyone can gauge.

"Abby was with me initially," he starts, heading behind the door. In the shade, they see him fiddle with a huge, basket-like object, creating a chorus of loud and soft noises in a clumsy order, if any.

Quinn loudly voices the majority's thoughts in what is meant to be a whisper to Harrison. "What's he doing?"

"...then David Rosen took her from us, so I believe I've been doing a good enough job keeping him satisfied on my own."

Olivia is now in the dark, too.

Jake makes his way back to them, cradling a loosely bundled infant in strong, careful arms. Liv blinks. She shakes her head. "Jake, what is this? Is this a joke?"

"I can handle him for you, Liv," Huck interjects huskily, not quite like himself. The thrill of the kill. Leftover B-613 bitterness.

"Whoa, whoa," Jake hisses, gesturing calloused hands in a manner that clearly says 'relax and quiet down'. "Meet Harley Stewart, unofficially. He'll be ready for formal introductions soon as he wakes up. Ms. Pope, Huck, associates...I believe this is your newest client, in more ways than one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> "All That Matters", by Justin Bieber
> 
> Oh-oh, just as sure as the stars in the sky  
> I need you to show me the light  
> Not just for the meanwhile, for a long long time  
> Better believe it  
> Oh-oh, whenever you're not in my presence  
> It feels like I'm missin' my blessings, yeah  
> So I sleep through the daylight, stay awake all night  
> 'Til you're back again, oh yeah, yeah
> 
> You think I'm biased  
> To my significant other  
> You hit it right on the head  
> Only been missin' my lover  
> Got a whole lotta texts on my phone and I don't reply  
> The next eight bars tell you why
> 
> You're all that matters to me  
> Yeah yeah, worried about nobody else  
> If it ain't you, I ain't myself  
> You make me complete  
> You're all that matters to me  
> Yeah yeah, what's a king bed without a queen  
> There ain't no "I" in team  
> You make me complete  
> You're all that matters to me
> 
> Take the gas out the car it won't drive  
> That's how I feel when you're not by my side  
> When I wake up in the morning up under you, and only you  
> Oh-oh, grateful for your existence  
> Faithful no matter the distance  
> You're the only girl I see  
> From the bottom of my heart, please believe
> 
> You're all that matters to me  
> Yeah yeah, worried about nobody else  
> If it ain't you, I ain't myself  
> You make me complete  
> You're all that matters to me  
> Yeah yeah, what's a king bed without a queen  
> There ain't no "I" in team  
> You make me complete  
> You're all that matters to me
> 
> Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah  
> You're all that matters to me  
> Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah  
> You're all that matters to me


	2. Mayor Stewart

"Is he going to stay asleep here? Just with me, I mean."

Jake can't help a sudden grin as Quinn rambles on nervously. He isn't aware that she's killed before. Otherwise, she wouldn't be alone in the anteroom with the baby. In fact, the fidgeting wouldn't be humorous any longer. Fortunately enough, he doesn't know much. He doesn't want to. Jake Ballard is simply happy to be alive and away from the hole.

"He should be fine. I think he's developed an avoidant attachment. In other words, strangers are a-okay in this little guy's book." Gently, as not to wake him, Jake caresses Harley's deep brown locks. "A few minutes. Stay here, relax. They'll debrief you once everything's done."

* * *

 

"Mind telling me how the hell my 'client' is two years old?"

Jake's expression becomes impassive. She hates this and he knows it. "One year, ten months, and fifteen days."

"Excuse me?"

"You said he was two, when in fact he is one year, ten months, and fifteen days old."

"Even better," Harrison cuts in, sighing exasperatedly with a hand clamped over his face.

Jake simply stands beside the door, refusing to sit - as did Huck. B-613 men: Stand Tall, Be Strong, Show No Weakness.

"Harley Christopher Stewart isn't just a one year old," Jake continues, disappointment etched in his features. "You're all missing the bigger picture here, which can be found by merely thinking out of the box. Huck? I'm shocked." He doesn't witness the other man's slight grimace at his mock indignation. Jake removes a wad of papers from his pocket, neatly unfolds them all at once, and hands each to a respective gladiator. By pure instinct, they begin attaching the documents to the observation wall for closer examination.

Tapping on the first sheet, pointing at the collated photographs of Harley and a young, dark-skinned woman, Jake utters, "Harley C. Stewart, born October 10th, 2011. Son of Bailey Rhiannon, he was raised in a single-parent household. Unfortunately, his mother passed away precisely two weeks ago." He delves deeper into the child's history, jumping between files until he reaches the specific document pertaining to the issue at hand.

"Bailey's will. She left everything to Harley, save a check and letter written to Olivia personally. Harley has no living family remaining to take him in. Long story short, our mission-." He stops himself, dragging his index fingers through the air in a line connecting the others, " _your_  mission is to bring him to his father. The name is, ah, written on this card." Jake carelessly tosses it atop the conference table, along with a thick envelope. "All I've got."

Harrison can't even lean over to grab the evidence before Jake has left again. Unfortunate, for the name shocks him.  _It can't be true_.

"Mayor Stewart," Harrison reads, looking up seconds later to see Olivia's involuntary flinch.

* * *

 

Quinn is shutting the front door when Olivia all but attacks her. "Where is he?"

"Jake? He left a few minutes ago - he took the kid. I showed him out. He was going home. Why? Do you need him?"

"Don't worry about it." Liv forces a smile, heading back to the conference room with Quinn on her tail this time.

"Who the hell is that?" Harrison demands, rising from his seat and shoots Liv a pointed glance. "A gladiator in training? A friend of yours? He sure as hell isn't a client."

"Relax," Huck warns, nearly whispering. "That's Jake. That's someone like me. He's  _one of my guys_ , Harrison, and I suggest you save the questions because you're going to receive some answers you really won't like."

Olivia tries to meet Huck's gaze; however, he refuses to pay her any attention. He is angry. The off day didn't help one bit. She is forced to collect herself, assembling the files Jake has given them, placing the manilla envelope at the top of the pile. "Who he is does not matter. He won't hurt us. He...he's a friend." Huck's shoulders slump, just-noticeably. "We have our facts. Let's solve this mystery, as we always do. Now are we gladiators,-."

"Or are we bitches?" The edges of Harrison's lips upturn as he finishes it off.

"We're gladiators."

"No, you're bitches. And I'm your pimp!"

The light mood returns to OPA headquarters.

* * *

 

Olivia observes the envelope first, preparing to open it before she is pricked on the fingers and spins it around. Wincing and squeezing her fingers together, she reads a message written in what appears to be blood.

**Do not open until absolutely necessary. You may not need it. Mayor Stewart will tell you otherwise. Speak with him first.**

 


	3. Taken Care Of

 

The phone rings, beeps, and vibrates several times, and it is not until it wakes the sleeping boy in his lap that Jake bothers to answer.

"Jake Ballard." The man might as well be spitting into his ear.  _I should have looked at the caller ID._

On  _that_  day, Jake and Olivia made a pact to avoid phone calls and contact with both her father and Fitz. There is no winner or loser; nonetheless, he still feels terrible, like an unworthy traitor.

_It's for your benefit._

_**I'm sorry, Olivia.** _

"Sssh, Harley. Rest." Jake rocks Harley back and forth, lulling him towards sleep once more. "What is it, Mr. Pope?"

"You will address me as Command," Rowan rasps heavily, and Jake almost smiles because he can imagine him in that moment. He's probably in a car. He doesn't strain or restrict his screaming when he's in private. Command is somewhere in between, around people yet not more than possibly two. Growling. "Why haven't you answered my phone calls?"

The smirk quickly vanishes from Jake's face. "Sir, I-."

"How about Olivia? If you so much as slip and say the wrong thing at the wrong time - which you are both prone to - I can have you back in that hole in an instant."

Groaning faintly, Jake lowers Harley into his crib, removing himself from the infant's vicinity straightaway. Children weren't meant to be involved in these matters. He knew that, at least. " _Hey_ , Command. I did what you asked me to do. The kid is here, with me, in Olivia's home." Eli does not respond.

"Assuming that you are surprised about my knowledge, and not at all by me shacking up in your daughter's home: yes, Command, I am aware that you sent me the information on this case. Your daughter  _would not_  be happy about that. By the way, you should use a different courier next time. I remember him too well. I don't know what you're trying to do, what your endgame is, what pawn I am; but, I 've done what you desired and I am downright pissed at myself."

"You own me, Command." He adds, as an afterthought.

Eli pauses, presumably gathering the right words to paint a beautiful, fucked-up, mesmerizing picture. It is in a sick, guttural tone that he remarks, "You're bright, Ballard. She loves you because you're bright. Don't worry about Clinton Stewart's son. He's not concerned with any scheme. Freebie for you, freebie for Olivia. Everyone wins. Everyone quits whining."

Jake attempts to rebuttal when a second caller distracts him. "Hold on, it's Olivia."

"Ballard, don't you dare-!"

Too late.

"Olivia? What is it?" Jake wastes no time, entirely dismissing an informal greeting on purpose.

"That's a pleasant way to answer your phone."

"I'm sorry. I was going off your in-person example from earlier."

Liv chuckles and, in spite of how he wants to feel, Jake's cheeks heat up as he smiles widely. "Don't follow my lead, Ballard. Olivia Pope is not a role model." Her voice turns serious, strained. "The Stewart boy, Jake. How...how did you...I spoke to Abby and she claims she didn't have any idea what you were...are you…?" She waits for him, unable to form a comprehensive query by her lonesome.

When he's ready, he clears his throat, betraying nothing in his tone. "Working for your father again? The president? No. It was a contact, Olivia. I still have connections."

"Another secret source."

"I'd never lie to you. My contacts have always been right, Olivia. I was locked up in a hole. I didn't  _die_. People remembered me. You did."

"I did. I believe you. It's...weird, that's all." Jake fees the subtle smile in her words.

"You're tired and upset. It's been a rough few weeks."

Right. Jeanine. Mary. Mary's son. A rough few weeks indeed.

"Listen," he resumes, after he determines she's either gotten her answers or is prolonging the silence of her own will. "I'll see you later. Focus on Mayor Stewart. Little Stewart's taken care of."

"Okay."

The call drops. Heaving a sigh of relief, Jake is taken aback when Mr. Pope's chords bore into his soul's very depths. "Quite the sweet talker, are we, Ballard?"

"No sir."

"Good. So, you  _are_  caring for the Stewart child? And Olivia has sufficient details to motivate her in getting to the mayor?"

"Yes and yes."

"Are you informing her of our conversation 'later'?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

A Pope hangs up on him for the second time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'day' that Jake refers to in the beginning is the day when Olivia almost got blown up by the bomb on Capitol Hill. He doesn't like to call it by name.


End file.
